Beautiful
by randomrandom
Summary: This was my first DW fic. Post Fathers' Day, back in the TARDIS after it all.


They were silent when they re-entered the TARDIS. He landed them in the middle of a field on some uninhabited island – she didn't bother to ask where – so they could rest for a day or two. It was dark out and there were some strange looking animals wandering around, but they seemed to be keeping their distance, and she stood outside for a long while, watching her breath float in clouds up towards the stars. They were blue, the stars, but she hadn't the strength to care. She just stood, getting colder and colder, and feeling a numbness spread through her as she replayed the day's events over and over in her mind.

He didn't notice when she came back inside, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. He was on the other side of the room, completely engrossed in the latest minor repair that needed to be made. But he looked up as she shut the door, and she offered an utterly unconvincing smile. It faded as their eyes met; something shifted between them and suddenly there were tears threatening to surface in her eyes. She felt inexpressibly small all of a sudden.

He held a hand out to her, and a moment later she was sitting in a chair facing the control desk, where he was sitting, looking down at her, with sorrow and guilt and concern all etched into his face as he listened in silence. She was crying freely now, but she wouldn't look at him. She wanted to get herself under control, but the words were spilling out of her as liberally as the tears were.

"He said, look at all these extra hours. He said, he'd got to meet me and he said… he said I was beautiful, but I don't feel beautiful I feel awful and…" she looked up at him and her eyes widened as they met his, "…and Doctor, I _killed_ you. It was all my fault, I –"

He grabbed her hands.

"I'm right here, Rose. You didn't kill me; your dad saved us all! The world." He grinned. "Must be where you get it from."

He reached out and gently placed a hand over her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"I'm right here," he repeated, and suddenly they were both standing and she was in his arms again and he was flooded with relief because it was alright like this; because when she was here he could protect her. When she was here he could stop her from hurting.

They lost track of time standing there like that, blocking out everything except the comfort and the safety that they took from each other. Everything else could wait, just for now.

After a while he stepped back, and tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, he looked at her critically.

"You're exhausted. Come on."

Taking her by the hand, he led her through into the maze of endless corridors and mysteries of the TARDIS. She went without protest, wiping her face with her sleeve as she went. She reserved the right, she was thinking to herself, to act like a child and be looked after for at least 12 more hours. She wondered wildly if the Doctor had any teddies in the TARDIS that she could steal for a bit. She giggled at the image that this conjured in her mind, coughed, and quietened again as the Doctor turned his perpetually, inquisitively, wry gaze upon her.

When they reached it, he came into her room with her, not even noticing that it was anything out of the ordinary. He watched as she clumsily kicked off her shoes and struggled out of her jacket, before crawling underneath the covers and lying still.

She couldn't think what to say. She didn't want to be left alone now, but she felt it too awkward to ask.

Only she didn't need to ask.

He pulled the covers fully over her, and softly smoothed down her hair as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He stayed there watching her, holding her hand in both of his, long after she had fallen asleep. Eventually he stood, and leaning over her kissed her forehead.

He paused a moment, and then whispered something so softly that she'd hardly have been able to hear it had she been awake. And yet as he switched off the light and closed the door behind him, his words seemed to echo somehow in the air, staying with her as she slept on.

"Goodnight, beautiful Rose."


End file.
